Missing Threads
by A.Boleyn
Summary: DannyLindsay semiangst chapter fic. After five happy months, can their growing relationship endure a sudden, unexpected separation? Complete.
1. Lindsay: Happy

**A/N: **Here is a chapter fic that has been in the works for about two months now. It is the closest I will ever get to Angst - I'll call it Idealism-Angst. :) It's been a very emotional, difficult, and rewarding process. Will be 15 chapters when complete. Thank you for taking the time to read. ;)**  
Disclaimer: **This is a work of fiction which utilizes characters from CBS/Bruckheimer/Alliance Atlantis/etc. No monetary profit involved - though I may wish it!

**Based on the quote:** _"Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle; everything I do is stitched with its color."_ -from W.S. Merwin's _Separation _

**Missing Threads **

**Chapter1**  
**Lindsay: Happy**

"Why don't you just eat it raw?"

"Why don't you just eat a brick of charcoal?"

Danny and Lindsay stood in the tiny, cramped kitchen of her apartment, peering into the oven at two sizzling t-bone steaks. They were arguing about their individual preferences in meat preparation. Danny liked his well-done, and expressed much disgust at anything done otherwise.

"Or are you country people immune to Mad Cow Disease?" he leered.

"I like my meat like I like my men," Lindsay joked, reaching out to swat Danny's thigh with a potholder. "Rare." He came up behind her then, wrapping her up in his embrace and rocking slightly. As she leaned back against him, their hips swaying together, Lindsay felt a wave of bliss rush over her. It had been five months since they had made the transformation from _just-friends _to _more-than-friends_. Up until that point, they had spent most of their free time together anyway - sharing meals, visiting city sights, and having long conversations about every possible topic. Through it all, Lindsay had told herself that Danny was just a colleague, that she didn't have romantic feelings for him. Then one evening, as they were nestled on her sofa watching a movie, Danny fell asleep with his head in her lap. As Lindsay smiled down at his boyish face, scrunched and innocent in slumber, she had to acknowledge the emotions rushing through her as something profoundly deep. Yet before she had an opportunity to voice those feelings, the next day was when Danny made his move. Despite some initial reservations, Lindsay yielded. She figured that if she was falling in love, she might as well jump right in. It had certainly been an amazing five months of savoring each other's company, and the most intense passion she had ever known. Everyone at work seemed to know, and even appeared happy for them. Lindsay never missed the fond smile Mac would cast their way as she and Danny left the lab together each evening. Nor did she miss the look of longing in Stella's eyes when Lindsay showed her the flowers Danny sent her, or the silver necklace he had tucked into her locker.

Along with these joys came the insecurities that any new relationship harbors. He told her that he loved her, yes, and she always reciprocated. But those words from him only came in the safety of the night, ensconced in blankets and darkness and each other. He never uttered them in the light of day when they were face to face. Still, this was the only shadow on a relationship that was growing brighter with each passing day.

"I'm hungry," Danny griped, still holding her close. "How much longer til dinner's ready?"

Lindsay rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "Is that all you ever think about - food?"

"Yeah. That, and one other thing," he murmured in her ear, beginning a trail of kisses down her neck that would inevitably lead them to the bedroom.

"Mmmph," she grunted as she struggled out of his grasp, albeit reluctantly. "No 'dessert' until you've had your dinner, young man." She opened the oven door carefully and used a knife to check the steaks' progress. She slid one, perfectly pink inside, onto a plate, while allowing the other to darken still.

"You promise to satisfy my sweet tooth later?" Danny teased over her shoulder.

Lindsay shook her head, evading his question just enough to drive him crazy. "Set the table," she ordered instead. Down went two plates, two napkins, two sets of utensils, two mugs of beer. Sometimes it was a mug of beer and a glass of white zinfandel; but for tonight, it was two beers.

Throughout dinner, as they made small talk, Lindsay watched Danny carefully in an attempt to read the expressions on his face. She knew he had a lot on his mind. Louie was still in a coma, and while he hadn't gotten worse, he had only made minimal progress. There had been false alarms, where a twitching eye or movement of the lips gave them all hope. The stress was taking a toll on Danny's relationship with his father and mother - despite their denial, he feared that deep down they somehow blamed him for the tragedy. His defense mechanism was to distance himself from his parents, resulting in their false belief that he did not care about his only sibling. Even with whatever mask Danny wore on the outside, Lindsay knew it was ripping him apart inside. She admired his resolve to live as if nothing was wrong, though Louie's recovery process was torturously slow. The more Lindsay got to know Danny, the more she grieved the possibility that she may never know his brother.

Weighing just as heavily on Danny's mind was the upcoming trial of Sonny Sassone. The trial was starting this week, and Danny would be testifying about his own experiences with the gang. Sassone was facing charges of murder, attempted murder, drug trafficking, as well as countless other lesser crimes. If convicted, he would almost definitely spend the rest of his life in prison. But to help make sure that happened, Danny would have to revisit his painful past on the stand, all while being stared down by Sassone himself. Lindsay was feeling extremely protective - she wished Mac would give them time off, so they could just lock themselves in her apartment for the week; their own private hideaway.

"How was Louie today?" she asked softly, pushing away her emptied plate. She knew Danny had stopped to see his brother at the hospital, as he did every Sunday afternoon, plus three nights a week. He shrugged, twirling his fork and not meeting her eyes.

"The same, I guess," he sighed. "The physical therapist said she saw his finger move again." The therapist was one of several specialists who visited Louie daily. Her job was to manually exercise his limbs in an attempt to ward off muscular atrophy.

Lindsay nodded, trying to appear hopeful for his sake. "That's encouraging," she offered. "He's doing that pretty consistently now." She paused before moving on to the next sensitive topic. Danny was not the type of person to open up about his feelings - particularly fears - but she couldn't resist asking. She was worried about him. "And how are you feeling about the trial?"

He nursed his beer, still avoiding her eyes. "It'll be a piece of cake," he said evasively, as if ashamed of his past connections to the gang. Lindsay could never figure this out - it wasn't as if anything could make her stop loving him. Suddenly, the twinkle returned to Danny's eyes. "Speaking of cake… what about my dessert?"

Lindsay laughed, relieved that the mood had been lightened. "Easy, big boy, what's your hurry?"

"I'm craving something sweet," he joked, then added seriously, "I should go home tonight. Get some stuff done." Danny had spent the past three consecutive nights at Lindsay's place, and his own apartment was no doubt in some serious need of attention.

Lindsay frowned, contemplating this. "I don't like you walking on the streets after dark," she said, thinking of the many thugs Sassone likely had on his payroll. She saw Danny about to speak, so before he could argue, she tossed her napkin on the table and reached for his hand.

"Come on," she offered seductively as she stood up. "Just stay here with me tonight, and I'll show you a sugar rush."

He stood too, and they stayed still for a moment, body to body, finding pleasure even in the lightest touch. Lindsay ran her fingers through his hair, then traced around his sideburns and down along his jaw. She tenderly brushed her thumb over his lips, watching his response, taking him all in.

"Do you know how much you mean to me?" she whispered in awe.

"Show me," Danny murmured before covering her mouth with his own. "Show me."

**------------------------------**

**A/N: **As always, I'm curious to hear your reactions - favorite lines/passages, etc. More to come shortly. :)


	2. Danny: Watching Her Sleep

**A/N: **Usual disclaimers apply. I forgot to mention that I will be alternating between Danny and Lindsay POV with this fic. This is a short chapter, I know, but it setting the stage for their relationship. Thank you for all of your support and comments thus far. :)

**--------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 2**  
**Danny: Watching Her Sleep**

He never knew it was possible to become addicted to a person.

Danny loved watching Lindsay as she slept. It kept him awake at night, far longer than it should. Flack always teased him about the reason why he must not get enough sleep. A few yawns from Danny, and Flack could never resist an opportunity to make a quip about his probable "extracurricular activities" with Lindsay. Yet little did Flack know the truth. She was always strict about not allowing their desires to interfere with their need for sleep. Still, Danny would lie awake long after she had drifted off, unable to take his eyes off of her. Tonight was no different.

Even asleep, she could transfix him. There was something about the way the moonlight made her skin look like silvery-blue satin, something about the sheet draped just over the curve of her breasts. She was lying on her side, one arm slung across him, her fingers curled on his chest as if she were anchoring herself to him through her dreams. Her knees were partially bent, and if he watched closely, he would sometimes see one of her legs twitch involuntarily. Those big brown eyes were closed, a feathery curtain of lashes remained. Her hair was a tangled mess, spilling over the pillow like a chocolate fondue gone awry. The lips he had been kissing all evening were rosy and plump, parting slightly as each breath escaped.

Danny often wished he were an artist, so he could sketch her the way she looked there next to him each night. Then he would carry the drawing with him everywhere; allowing himself to slip back into this peaceful feeling wherever, whenever. However, he knew that a charcoal pencil would not be able to capture the more intimate details - her soft, even breathing, the goose bumps where the draft from the air conditioner reached her shoulders, the intoxicatingly sweet scent of her skin. And no medium could precisely match the silky texture of her curls, which he would sometimes stroke or twist around his finger. Then there was her very presence, taking up space next to him, the shifting of the mattress. No, no artist in history could have created a portrait quite like her.

He sometimes wondered if she ever just pretended to sleep, if she knew that he watched her, and if she knew how much satisfaction most innocent act of voyeurism brought him. It struck him as funny, because his past experiences in bed with women had left him itching to get up and leave - before any sense of intimacy made its way into his heart. Not only had it made a home there now, he had also welcomed it sincerely. His feelings for Lindsay did scare him, but no so much that he was willing to give her up. Since meeting her, he had seen New York - the city where he had grown up - through fresh eyes. Hell, he now saw the whole world through fresh eyes. Indeed, everyday colors looked richer than ever, the morning sky had never been so brilliant.

He had told Louie all about Lindsay. Sitting there at his brother's bedside several times a week, he hadn't known what to talk about. He was unsure if his voice even registered. Yet still, he talked. He talked about Lindsay. Louie, more than anyone else, had heard every detail of their relationship from its first official moment to present day. He tried to describe her to his brother - that big, goofy, toothy grin that she would flash if something was particularly funny, or the way her lip trembled when she was angry. Had his brother been awake, he would have reached over and cuffed Danny playfully across the head, and teased him for letting a girl get such a hold of his senses. But inside, Louie would have been happy for him. And he would have liked Lindsay, Danny thought. Louie would have loved the way Danny bent over backwards to please her, just as he would have loved her secret Montana barbecue sauce. It was looking at his brother in this condition one night, just five months ago, that made Danny realize the fragility of life. It was frightening exactly what could happen if someone's presence was taken for granted. He had gone home that night and called Lindsay. She was at his door in under an hour, and they never looked back.

And now, he treasured moments such as these; these nights of watching her, aching to touch her but not permitting himself. He wouldn't allow his hormonal turmoil to interrupt her sleep. She was enchanting. The moon would shift in phases, highlighting different areas of her body at different periods of time. It would settle on her head soon after she fell asleep, making her brunette mane more radiant than ever. Later it moved on to illuminate her midsection, the arc of her hips. When the light spilled across her calves, Danny knew night was quickly fading. _Just ten more minutes_, he'd tell himself. Ten would pass, as would ten more. He wondered if it was possible for a heart to explode with emotion. It was so amazing, in fact, that he often looked over his shoulder, waiting for Real Life to come and snatch away the happiness he had found, reclaim the time he had borrowed from harsh Reality. Because being this happy couldn't be real, and certainly couldn't last… or could it?


	3. Lindsay: Foreboding

**Disc: **usual applies  
**A/N: **Forgot to thank my lovely Beta, **Cyko1003... **I appreciate her **Grains of Falling **wisdom, the kind **Demeanor **with which she edited this fic - even on days when I felt like it was **Lying on a Fault Line.** ;)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 3**  
**Lindsay: Foreboding**

_She was walking across a rickety rope bridge, unable to take her eyes from the rushing current in the gorge ten feet below. She tried not to think about the hungry crocodiles in that churning water, and instead focused on planting her feet firmly on each plank. Danny was just ahead of her, inching along the bridge ever so cautiously. She had no idea where he was going or why he was even out here, but had attempted to follow him anyway. Her shouted inquiries to him had gone unanswered, or - given the roaring of the water - perhaps unheard. The bridge was swaying violently with each terrified step she took. Suddenly, one of the rungs split with a loud crack, tumbling into the torrent below. Danny was sucked down into the hole left behind. Lindsay tried desperately to catch him, reaching out to grab his hand before he fell, but she missed. She watched helplessly as he was swept away. All she could think to do next was scream._

"Danny!" Lindsay sat straight up in bed, tremors of terror wracking her petite frame.

He sat up just as quickly, and it occurred to her that he must have already been awake. Instantly, he gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair in an attempt to pacify her.

"Shhh, easy," he whispered soothingly, rubbing her shoulders. "It's all right, it was just a dream." This wasn't the first time he had witnessed the aftermath of Lindsay's nightmares.

"I tried to catch you," she gasped, then began babbling details. "The bridge was so shaky and the water underneath was moving so quick, and I heard something break and you started falling and I couldn't help you, it happened so fast…"

Danny continued rocking, leaning them both back against his pillow as she tried to catch her breath. "I'm right here," he murmured.

"I'm so afraid of losing you," Lindsay confessed, clutching to him tightly, on the verge of tears.

"You can't lose me," he whispered gently in her ear, and she heard the unspoken promise in his voice. "Not even if you tried."

----

Lindsay slept through the remainder of the night without incident. She was grateful when Danny failed to mention her nightmare the next morning. They simply readied for work in their usual manner, bustling about between the shower and the coffee pot. Even their ride to work together was ordinary. Still, something mysterious was weighing on her, and she felt enormous relief as she walked in the front doors of the lab. Nothing could occupy her mind quite like her job could. Danny gave her a quick goodbye peck on the lips, then headed off towards the ME's office. Lindsay was flagged down by Stella as soon as she stepped off the elevator.

"Morning," Lindsay greeted her. "What's up?"

"Hey!" Stella said. "There was a homicide at the Truesdale estate, over in Brooklyn. You and I got the assignment - Flack's already at the scene." Lindsay nodded, her adrenalin beginning to pump. This was what she was meant to do.

"Just let me grab a kit," she replied. "Then we'll hit the road."

----

"So," Stella said as they began the drive across town to the crime scene.

"So," Lindsay responded benignly, shifting in the passenger seat to look at Stella. She wondered what exactly was coming.

"How's Danny holding up?" Stella asked. "I mean, he must be having a tough time, with Louie and the trial. How is he?"

"Strangely well, considering. I tried to talk to him last night, but he just shut down. He's acting completely normal, otherwise," Lindsay confided. As they rode, she gazed out the window at the busy city streets: this was just one facet of New York that never ceased to amaze her. "For some reason, his strength never wavers," she added. She flipped down the sun visor, using the mirror to apply a quick coat of lip gloss.

Stella looked over at Lindsay studying her reflection, and smiled. "I think you're looking at his reason."

----

A short time later, they pulled up in front of the grand, ivory-colored mansion of the Truesdale family. With it's weeping willow trees, curvy pillars, and manicured lawn, it evoked a feeling of antebellum South right there in New York.

Flack greeted Lindsay and Stella in the foyer and filled them in on the details of the crime.

"Alan Rothbart," he announced. "Private chef of the Truesdale family. One of the maids called 911 when she found the body in the pantry about an hour ago. From what we can tell, robbery was the motive. Cecilia Truesdale kept a hidden stash in the pantry, and someone else knew about it. Poor Mr. Rothbart just got in the way."

The three of them walked into the parlor, where Mrs. Truesdale sat speaking to an officer. She was pushing seventy, but the amount of makeup and jewelry she wore was akin to that of someone much younger. Her husband had died several years ago, and she was well-known in the community for the annual social event she hosted, which benefited the humane society. On her lap were two silken-haired red and white dogs with large, liquidy eyes and short muzzles.

"We wanted to take her prints for elimination, but the little mutts wouldn't let anyone get near her," Flack grumbled. As if on cue, one of the tiny pups bared its teeth at the officer.

"Cavalier King Charles Spaniels," Lindsay corrected him. "And besides, I doubt she has touched anything in the kitchen… from the looks of it, everything is _brought_ to her."

Flack next led Lindsay and Stella back through a narrow, twisting hall into the dimly-lit pantry. Lindsay noted that it was actually larger than her own kitchen at home. The dead body was lying there, face down, covered in a layer of what appeared to be baking flour. A single gaping wound in the back of the head made the cause of death fairly obvious. A large, dented can of tomato sauce - likely the weapon which had caused the fatal blow - was next to the body, leaking a thick red paste onto the floor. The blood had not yet to begun to clot, and mixed with the tomato sauce and flour to create one big sticky mess.

"Stromboli a la corpse, anyone?" Flack joked.

One the floor nearby were several cookbooks which appeared to have been knocked off the shelf. One of the books lay open to a recipe for Almond-Crusted Chilean Sea Bass.

"That's where Mrs. Truesdale kept a wad of hundred dollars bills," Flack explained. "Between pages 54 and 55." When confronted with confused glances from Lindsay and Stella, he shrugged. "Her husband loved fish, apparently."

"That's a pretty wise move, you have to admit," Lindsay stated. "No one would think to look for valuables in the servants' area."

"There's footprints in the flour," Stella pointed out, beginning to snap photos. "Our killer was clumsy; I don't get the feeling that this was very well thought-out."

Lindsay nodded. "He probably wasn't intending to kill anyone. The question is: why kill someone, and then cover their body in a layer of _flour_?" She delicately lifted the can of tomato sauce, then sealed it in a plastic bag. "I'll check this for prints."

Stella frowned thoughtfully. "Any idea how the killer gained entry to the house?" she asked.

"The maid I talked to said Alan always left the back door wide open while he cooked breakfast," Flack informed her. "The heat from the oven made this room unbearable otherwise."

Lindsay and Stella went out the back door, following the trail of flour footprints which lead into the yard. The dust had turned doughy where the prints met the grass, still moist with morning dew. The tracks continued towards the alley, then disappeared.

Flack came up behind them as they inspected the area for any sign of trace.

"Nothing out here but this gooey stuff," Lindsay said, spooning some of the wet flour into an evidence bag.

Flack grinned. "Then I guess we'll be needing an arrest warrant for the Pillsbury Doughboy."

----

Back at the lab, Lindsay dusted the tomato sauce can for prints, and pulled off two different samples. Before she could scan the first one, a hand snaked around her waist, then up under her lab coat. She jumped, and a husky voice whispered in her ear: "They shouldn't hire such gorgeous investigators around here. It's impossible to get any work done."

Lindsay decided to beat Danny at his own game. "Gerald," she breathed. "Baby, we can't keep doing this here." Gerald was the lab's balding, sweaty, pot-bellied janitor, who always smelled of cigars and floor cleaner.

Danny drew back in mock horror, and Lindsay whipped around, laughing. "You should see your face!" she pointed.

"Very funny, Montana," he grumbled, his hands still on her. Danny's hands moved dangerously lower, sliding around the waistband of her pants. His fingers brushed against the skin of her stomach, causing tingles to radiate through her entire body. Lindsay firmly removed his wandering hand, but smiled.

"Are you flirting with me, Detective Messer?" she asked. "That's highly unprofessional."

"Sorry, I can't resist." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Let's go eat," he suggested.

Lindsay shook her head. "I can't, Danny. I've got to run these prints, I don't have time to take off right now."

"But I've missed you," he argued, a childish pout threatening to form on his lips.

"One more hour," Lindsay promised, secretly enjoying the fact that he longed for her so much. "Then we can take lunch together."

"Too long," Danny said, the pout forming after all.

She laughed and shook her head. Just then, Lindsay spotted Stella walking by, and recalled something she needed to tell her. She tossed an apologetic smile over her shoulder at Danny as she dashed out of the room. He winked and crossed his arms, as if daring her to walk away from him. She could stare at him all day, grinning like that, but an hour wasn't long. She would see him again soon.


	4. Danny: Taken

**Disclaimers: ** usual  
**A/N: ** More thanks to Cyko the Wonder Beta. and all of you who take the time to read. I apologize for any spacing issues/inconsistencies: FF net and my computer don't have a very loving relationship. Here is where the story actually gets going - the most angst I have ever written in a D/L fic. Still, I can't go long without the fluff and squees. :)

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Danny: Taken**

Danny was daydreaming again, a habit that was becoming more frequent now that he and Lindsay had become involved. In this particular fantasy, they were alone in the lab in the middle of the night; she in nothing but a white lab coat, stiletto heels, and goggles. He had worked late on a tough case, she had come in to surprise him. It was an exciting scenario, and he wondered if she would ever be interested in trying it in real life. Before the vision could develop further into steamier territory, Danny was interrupted.

"Danny? Come with me." He jerked suddenly out of his daydream. _Mac. _Reluctantly, he followed Mac into the corridor, leaving the image of Lindsay and her naughty treat behind. Danny assumed that this had something to do with the case he and Hawkes had been working on. It had been a full week since the murder of a local attorney, and they still had no suspect. He sighed and rolled his eyes. He grew curious, however, when they walked past Mac's office, and kept going at a brisk pace.

"Uhh… where are we going?" Danny inquired.

"Just follow me," Mac replied, his voice giving away nothing. His stride was brisk and purposeful. They stepped onto the elevator, politely nodding at two colleagues who were stepping off. They remained silent as the elevator began its descent. Danny was immensely confused, and he surmised that although he liked surprises from Lindsay, surprises from Mac couldn't possibly be good. A ding sounded as they reached their destination - the third floor.

"This way," Mac commanded as the door opened, and Danny followed him mutely, his mind reeling with all the possibilities. They walked past the AV department, past Ballistics, to a stairwell, and then down two more stories. This brought them to a rear fire exit that led into the alley behind the lab. Mac held the heavy, windowless door open, waving Danny out into the bright afternoon sunshine. Danny blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light.

Parked just outside the door was a sleek, black SUV, with tinted windows and government plates. Leaning against the vehicle were two men in suits and sunglasses; one chewing gum, one smoking a cigarette.

Danny balked, attempting to go back inside the building. Mac grabbed his arm.

"Dammit Mac, what the hell is going on?" Danny snapped, beginning to panic.

Mac regarded him solemnly. "Danny, after speaking with the DA and Chief of Police, we've decided that it would be best if you are placed in protective custody during Sassone's trial."

Danny stepped back, raising his hands defensively. "Uh-uh, no way. Look, I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself."

"These are dangerous people," Mac warned. "You should know more than anyone what they are capable of."

"So what, lock me up like a criminal? Punish me by carting me off somewhere?" Danny was getting scared, and his fear was manifesting itself as anger. "This is like in the movies."

"Danny, the testimony you have to give will be the nail in Sassone's coffin - a guilty verdict is almost guaranteed with the information you have. That makes you a huge target. Sassone may be in jail, but you know he has thugs to do his dirty work."

"Then let them come after me," Danny growled. "Bring it on." As he and Mac argued, the two government agents regarded them with mild interest, still smoking and chewing.

"Is that what you want?" Mac asked, losing his patience. "For them to beat _you_ senseless? For Lindsay to have to live with what you're living with? Do you want her to sit there at your bedside for months, wondering if you'll ever open your eyes and look at her again?"

Danny was mute, in shock as reality hit him. God, no, he didn't want to bring Lindsay any sort of pain. The thought made his chest ache; he would do anything to protect her.

Mac, sensing Danny's faltering resistance, reached out to touch his shoulder, and looked him directly in the eye. "Danny, remember when you came to me with those test results a few month ago?… You asked me to trust you. I did. And now, I'm asking you to trust me."

Danny knew what he had to do. There were no other options. "Alright," he said in a low voice, defeated. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need your badge, for starters," Mac explained. "Your gun, cell phone, your wallet, your keys."

He waved over the two agents, and handed Danny's belongings to one of them. "This is Agent Warren and Agent Hess, they'll be taking you to a secret location where you'll stay for the duration of Sassone's trial - probably about 5 days or so. Instead of bringing you back to testify, you will give a taped deposition. You'll have a guard accompanying you 24/7, and you can have contact with _no one_."

"Not even Lindsay?" Danny asked hoarsely.

Mac shook his head gravely. "Not even Lindsay," he said, sympathy evident in his voice.

"Don't I get to say goodbye to her?" Misery was written across Danny's face.

"There's no time," Mac said urgently. "You have to get out of here."

Danny pulled out his wallet - a photo of Lindsay was situated on the front flap. He took one last glance before handing it over. "You'll talk to her?" he asked Mac pleadingly.

"I'll tell her," Mac nodded. "I'll tell her as much as I can."

Mac exchanged a few words with the agents. One hopped into the front passenger seat of the mysterious vehicle, while the other opened a rear door and waited for Danny to get in.

Mac squeezed Danny's shoulder. "This is for the best," he promised reassuringly.

Danny could only nod, then he climbed in the back seat of the mysterious vehicle. The door was slammed shut behind him. The second agent got in the driver's seat and started the engine. Danny watched Mac through the window as they drove away. _Tell her I'm sorry_, was all he could think. _Tell her I love her._


	5. Lindsay: Just Gone

**Disclaimer: ** same as always.**  
A/N: ** Please grant me artistic license when it comes to the realism of Danny's "protective custody" situation. My focus is the characters - all about the D/L. I'm so appreciative of everyone who has been taking the time to read this! **  
**

* * *

**Chapter 5**  
**Lindsay: Just Gone**

Lindsay and Stella were seated side by side on the break room sofa, going over case notes and downing coffee.

"The first set of prints from the can of tomato sauce matched our vic," Lindsay told Stella. "I'm still waiting on AFIS to get a hit on the other set - potentially that of our killer."

"This is a guest list from the benefit Mrs. Truesdale hosted last month," Stella said, holding up a packet of papers. "Also, I got a list of names of people who are often in the house - neighbors, friends, family. Any of those people could have knowledge of the money stashed in the pantry. We'll have to start interviewing them in order to eliminate suspects. I say we head over to the mansion and interview Mrs. Truesdale and her staff."

"Sounds good," Lindsay agreed. She was about to stand up, when she heard her name. Looking up, she saw Mac poke his head in the door, a solemn look on his face.

"What is it Mac?" she asked. Something was wrong, she could instinctively sense it. Suddenly, it hit her.

"Danny!" she gasped, terrified. "Is he-"

"He's fine," Mac jumped in quickly. He walked over and joined both women on the sofa.

Stella started to stand up. "I can give you two some privacy," she offered, but Mac shook his head.

"You can stay," he said, then paused before continuing. "Lindsay, Stella: Danny's been taken into protective custody until Sassone's trial is over. Opening arguments began this morning - it will probably go until the end of the week."

Trembling, Lindsay crossed her arms and hugged herself. She was relieved that Danny was okay - yet the other half of Mac's news failed to register. "Wait, where is he?" she asked, breathless and perplexed.

"You know I can't tell you that." Mac's voice was sympathetic, he knew this was painful for her.

"When?" Lindsay stuttered. "How long ago did he leave?"

"Just about ten minutes ago," Mac replied. "He left with two government agents who will escort him to his assigned location."

"Did he say anything about me?" she asked. "Any message?"

Mac sighed. "You were his first concern when he found out what was happening. Believe me, he is not happy about this."

Lindsay fought back tears. "I can't believe it," she whispered numbly.

"And Lindsay, remember," Mac cautioned firmly as he got up to leave. "You can't have any contact with him. I had to seize his phone. As far as you know, Danny is _just gone_."

She nodded miserably. "I know. Thanks for telling me, Mac."

After Mac left, Stella put her arm around Lindsay to give her a comforting squeeze. "It's for his own safety, you know," she told her gently. "Are you okay?"

Lindsay shrugged. "If I said yes, it would be a lie," she admitted. She shivered involuntarily, then stood up. "Let's get going to the Truesdale place."

"Are you sure?" Stella asked, concerned. "Because I can handle the interviews; you could just hang out here and wait for the print results. Take it easy."

Lindsay gave Stella a half-hearted smile. "Trust me, I could use the distraction."

-------

Stella and Lindsay were ushered in the front door of the mansion by Alice, a young, plump maid. "Come in," she murmured, not looking them in the eye. "Mrs. Truesdale is taking her tea in the parlor."

"Okay," Stella said to Lindsay. "I'll take the staff, you take the Queen Bee." She nodded toward the old woman, who was once again accompanied by her two canine companions. As Stella headed off with a cluster of five maids, Lindsay cautiously approached Mrs. Truesdale. She allowed the dogs to sniff her outstretched palm before speaking.

"Mrs. Truesdale," she began. "I just have to ask you a few questions about Mr. Rothbart, and what may have happened to him."

The elderly lady spoke first to her dogs. "See, darlings? The lady is nice. Mumsy is right here." At last she looked up at Lindsay, and she was haunted by the sadness in the woman's eyes. "It's been a nightmare, this whole thing." She pointed to an empty ceramic cup on the tray. "Tea?"

"Uh, no thank you," Lindsay murmured, feeling awkward. "This must have been especially hard on you. How long had Mr. Rothbart worked for you?"

"Twenty years. We were his only family. He was such good company, you know," Mrs. Truesdale confided, now beginning to speak easily. "Alan took such good care of me after my husband died. That was the worst time of my life. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't laugh. I hardly remembered how to breathe." Her eyes misted over. "It's not easy being apart from the one you were meant to spend your whole life with."

Lindsay bit her lip, a lump forming in her throat and threatening to strangle her. _At least you know yours will be coming back_, a voice in her head told her.

"Hold Ahriel, will you, dear?" Mrs. Truesdale asked suddenly, handing the male pup to Lindsay. She reached for a tissue and dabbed her eyes.

"Could he have told someone about the money you had hidden in the cookbook?" Lindsay asked, stroking the dog's silky hair as he gazed up at her fondly. "Maybe he just mentioned it in passing, to someone who he's close to, and might have been desperate for cash?"

"Heavens, no. All of my employees are discrete. Alan kept to himself, anyway." Mrs. Truesdale poured herself more tea, followed by a heaping spoonful of sugar.

Lindsay spotted Stella waiting in the foyer, so she handed Ahriel back to his owner. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Truesdale. My partner is waiting for me." She then added, "Your Cavaliers are gorgeous."

The old woman beamed; Lindsay had obviously touched her. "You know the breed?" she asked, then added without waiting for an answer, "Yes, Contessa and Ahriel come from one of the oldest Cavvie lines in the country. Their grand-dam won Best of Breed at Westminster--"

Lindsay apologetically excused herself when she saw Stella beckoning her. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Truesdale, my partner needs to speak to me." She rushed out of the room to meet Stella.

"I may have something," Stella told her. "One of the maids said the hidden stash was no secret - all of the employees blabbed about it. Another maid mentioned the next door neighbor, Travis Gonzales. Apparently he harassed our vic pretty frequently, yelled at him for parking in the alley between the houses."

Lindsay nodded excitedly. For now, adrenalin had superseded her shock and grief. "The doughy footprints lead towards the alley! Let's go see if Mr. Gonzales is home," she said, taking Stella's elbow and heading toward the back door.

The alley between the mansion and Gonzales home seemed to separate two worlds. Stella and Lindsay walked delicately across the weed-filled lawn, and knocked on the door of the poorly-kept trailer. A dark-haired man about twenty-five opened the door.

"Travis Gonzales?" Stella questioned gruffly. He confirmed this with a slight nod. Lindsay was instantly struck by his height - or lack thereof. He was only as tall as she was.

The two women held up their badges. "We're from the NYPD crime lab," Stella announced. "We have a few questions about the murder of Alan Rothbart, the chef next door."

Gonzales shrugged belligerently, then spat a dark glob onto the pavement. "Don't know nothing," he snapped.

Lindsay noticed a pair of boots next to the door. "Were you wearing these boots yesterday, Mr. Gonzales?" she asked. She could take a scraping and check for traces of flour.

He looked agitated. "No," he said quickly. Too quickly.

Lindsay knelt down and pulled out an evidence bag, along with a scraper. "Then you won't mind if I look…" he voice stopped when she discovered white, sticky reside within the treads of the books. She quickly pulled a photo out of the folder she was carrying, and compared the two tracks. A preliminary examination of the treads told her there was a good chance it was a match.

"You're coming with us, Travis," Stella said firmly, summoning a nearby police officer to take him into custody.

On the way back to the lab, with Travis Gonzales behind them in a squad car, Lindsay noticed that the afternoon sun was beginning to fade. Unable to focus on the case, only one thought repeated itself in her mind, a continuous litany of bewilderment: _Where was Danny?_


	6. Danny: Nowhere

Same **disclaimers **apply: only Danny belong to me. Err, I wish. **  
A/N: **Sorry for the one-day delay! I got sidetracked by the premiere... and lack of D/L!  
Thanks as always to my Beta, **Cyko1003**! This story never would have been published if it weren't for her, lol.

* * *

**  
**

**Chapter 6**  
**Danny: Nowhere**

"Hey!"

Danny banged on the tinted Plexiglas divider panel between himself and the two agents. They had been driving for over an hour, and he wanted to know where this secret expedition was leading. He had watched the Manhattan skyline fade, and now he had a suspicion they were in New Jersey. He hated feeling so out of control.

"Where the hell am I?" he shouted again. It occurred to him then that the barrier was probably soundproof. He hadn't heard a word from either man during the entire trip. Though he knew his efforts were futile, he banged the panel one more time with fury. "Dammit!"

No one from up front responded to or even acknowledged his protests, but within another mile the vehicle made a sudden right turn into the parking lot of a hotel. It was a tan, two-story building with an arched entranceway. It appeared to be of middling quality - not a dive by any means, but not exactly luxury, either. For Danny, however, his lodgings were the least of his concerns. Suddenly, his door was opened for him, and Agent Hess waved him out.

"Welcome to Nowhere," he said brusquely. "Your Home Sweet Home for the next few days."

Danny climbed out, his legs stiff from the ride. The parking lot had few cars; a Monday in Fall didn't likely bring a lot of tourism to the area. Both Agents Hess and Warren then guided him not to the main entrance, but to a back door labeled 'Employees Only'. Warren inserted a key into the lock, clicked the door open, and ushered Danny inside. He was escorted by both men now a long blue-carpeted hallway which smelled of stale coffee and window cleaner.

They stopped at room 14A, where a man was sitting outside the door on a wooden chair. He stood as they approached.

"You must be Messer," he said, extending his hand. "Name's Joe."

Danny shook Joe's hand unenthusiastically. Agent Warren spoke. "Joe here will be your guard for the day shift. Ed will be along later, he'll cover nights."

Joe was of moderate height, probably late 50's, with silvery hair and gentle, twinkling blue eyes. Though he wasn't ready to admit it, Danny felt an instant connection to the man. He was glad that he would be his company for the days to come. _It certainly could have been worse_, he thought gruffly, glancing at the two ice-cold agents, who left without so much as a nod.

"Well, Joe said, as he pulled a key from his pocket, "let's get you inside and give you the grand tour." Danny noted the holster and standard-issue gun strapped to his belt.

The inside of the room was inky black, and Joe fumbled for the light switch. When he flicked it on, Danny grunted in distaste at the drab, windowless box that was to be his temporary residence.

"This was originally a storage room," Joe explained. "It was then furnished for the department - we needed a safe room with no windows and one door. We've used this location a few other times." He pointed to the edge of the double bed where a pile of folded gray jumpsuits lay. "Since you didn't have an opportunity to pack your own things, that will be your wardrobe for the week."

"I'll be living like a prisoner," Danny griped.

"At least you'll be living," Joe remarked, a note of sharpness in his voice. He continued a moment later, once again jovial. "You'll find all the other necessities you'll need in the bathroom. Out here's your plasma television, satellite with 200 channels."

Danny plopped down on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. Sensing the despair, Joe tried cheering him up again. "Any special food requests?" he asked. "It's at the state's expense - whatever you'd like."

"A pint of whiskey," Danny grumbled, his voice coming out muffled from behind his hands.

Joe chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry, son, no alcohol. But what can I get you for dinner?"

"I'm not hungry," Danny said, then turned over and laid down. "I just want to be alone for a while."

---

Danny took a shower, hoping to relieve the tension that was causing his shoulders and back to ache. The bathroom was a pleasant surprise compared to the rest of the dull room - it was open, tiled bright white, and featured a large shower with a massaging showerhead. As the hot, pulsating water sluiced down over his body, Danny somehow wished it would wash away the gloom he felt. Afterwards, he changed into one of the stiff, starched jumpsuits and returned to the bed. He laid there, looking at the ceiling and feeling sorry for himself. He was so lonely - far away from his job, his friends, his family. Far away from Lindsay. God, that killed him. What would she be thinking of him? Would she be angry because he left without saying goodbye? Would she think he was too dangerous to be around anymore? Would she perhaps realize that her life was better off without him? The thoughts that plagued his mind caused Danny's stomach to twist into endless knots.

He jumped when heard a knock at the door. Joe peeked his head in. "You in the mood for some company?" he offered. "Ed will be here to take over in a little while."

Danny shrugged, rolling on his side to face the door. He found the man likeable despite the circumstances. "Sure," he replied. He studied Joe carefully as the older man took a seat by the door. "Can you call someone for me?" he asked.

Joe shook his head apologetically. "No, it's too risky. If their phone was bugged, it could be traced right back here. Your only contacts for the next several days will be myself and Ed."

Danny rolled back over on his back, arms crossed behind his head. "So I guess you'll want to hear my life story, huh?" he grunted.

"I know pretty much everything there is to know about you," Joe said simply. His manner was not threatening or ominous, just matter-of-fact. It was his job to know these things. "You're thirty-two years old, unmarried, a crime scene investigator. Your brother is in a coma as a result of a gang beating. You reside at 134 C, West 19th street. You're testifying against Sonny Sassone at his trial this week, hence your presence here."

Danny blinked in surprise. "Well, then," he said yearning for some sort of mundane conversation to distract him. "Tell me about you, Joe."

Joe nodded easily, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs. "I'm originally from Oregon; I worked patrol out there, before moving to New York. I opted to switch from patrol to the protective custody unit. I've been married 31 years to my wife Martha, we have two sons, ages 25 and 18. I love traveling; I just got back from Nepal about a month ago." He held up his hands and grinned. "And that's about all there is to know about Joe."

"Why'd you leave patrol?" Danny asked curiously. "It must be so boring doing this, just sitting around all day."

Joe smiled awkwardly. "I have my reasons, they're complicated." The two men sat in silence for awhile, until Danny's eye began to slide shut. He wasn't that tired, but his body needed some sort of escape from his current situation.

As he drifted off, he hoped fervently that his dreams would take him to Lindsay.

* * *

_wishing you all D/L dreams. Thanks. ;) _


	7. Lindsay: Everywhere

**Disc: **please don't sue, and avoid taking with alcohol.

**A/N: **I was just inundated with review alerts... after going without any for several days:D Thanks, sorry for not responding to them until now! Yes, yes, I know it's a sad story, but it will get better. I promise.

* * *

**  
**

**Chapter 7**  
**Lindsay: Everywhere**

Lindsay's head was throbbing - a dull pain radiated from her temples and spread down her neck. _Tension, _she thought As she swallowed two aspirin and washed them down with a soft drink, she remembered regretfully that no medicine could ease heartache.

Stella and Flack had been questioning Travis Gonzales for nearly an hour, as she watched through the two-way mirror. It began with Travis vehemently denying any knowledge of or involvement in the crime. When confronted with the evidence of his boot print in the flour, he was now finally admitting to knowledge of the murder.

"I heard noises over there," he told Flack, "like banging and yelling and stuff. So yeah, I was going to go tell old man Rothbart to shut the hell up. When I went in the back door, I saw him lying there on the floor, with blood and flour and this other red stuff everywhere. Then I freaked out and just ran. That's how the flour got on my shoes."

"And why didn't you call the police?" Stella interjected, exasperated.

Travis glared at her. "Why? Because of _this!_" He waved his hand around the dark interrogation room. "I knew I'd be a prime suspect."

"You know what I think?" Flack asked, egging Travis on. "I think you went over there to shut him up, and decided to shut him up _permanently_. Is that what happened, Travis? It would be easier on all of us if you'd just admit to it."

Travis slammed his fist down on the table with rage. "I didn't do it!" he shouted. "That's the truth!"

Flack stood abruptly and left the room in a huff, Stella close at his heels. He explained to both Stella and Lindsay where the investigation stood. "Travis has no alibi, and we have the boot print, but we don't have enough evidence to hold him. Technically, his story _could_ be legit. We'll need some DNA, or a fingerprint, if we want to arrest him." Flack shrugged. "I've told him not to leave town, and we'll have an officer outside his place to keep an eye on him. For now, I'm headed back to the station - I'll catch up with you tomorrow." He waved, then disappeared down the corridor.

Stella turned to Lindsay. She smiled, noting the exhaustion on Lindsay's face. "Why don't you go home and get some rest?" she suggested gently. "Tomorrow we'll start fresh, and interview the people from the Truesdales' guest list."

Lindsay didn't argue, though she wasn't sure if she was grateful for the excuse to leave, or dreading the thought of going home to her lonely apartment. But for now, her heart just wasn't in the case. Her heart was with Danny, and she had no idea where he was. She walked to the locker room, gathered her belongings, and then opened the locker next to hers: Danny's. Inside was his jacket. She gathered it up to take with her, as a sort of security blanket, savoring his familiar scent.

When Lindsay entered her dark apartment that evening, the silence was painful. There was no one there to give her a reassuring hug, to tease her mercilessly for trivial things; no one there to make her feel secure and wanted. Danny was not there, he would not be coming tonight. He was gone, but signs of him remained everywhere.

She putted around the kitchen first, trying to decide what to fix herself for dinner. She was so used to cooking for two, or at least ordering for two, as they always spent their evenings together. She noticed Danny's empty coffee mug in the sink, and his beer in her fridge. She could have heated up some leftovers, but ultimately, she decided she just wasn't hungry.

She went in the bathroom to wash her face, glad that the headache had at last begun to fade. She grinned ruefully at a damp towel, tossed in a heap on top of the hamper. Time after time she had told Danny, _the towel goes _in_ the hamper_ - but he never listened. He did the same thing at his own apartment, and it drove her nuts. Right now, she would be willing to pick up a million towels if it meant him coming back to her.

In the living room, she cuddled up on the cozy leather recliner chair in which Danny always sat. She noticed a section of newspaper stuck between the cushions. Picking it up, she saw Sassone's ugly, pudgy face glaring back at her. "Gang Leader Trial Begins Monday," the headline announced. With a sigh, she crumpled up the paper and let it fall to the floor.

For about an hour, Lindsay sat and stared into space. Her eyes were drifting shut, and she needed to give in and go where she dreaded going: the bedroom. She had been putting it off, but it was growing late and she needed to get to sleep. Avoiding it any longer wouldn't help matters. Physical and emotional fatigue bearing down on her, she crept towards her bedroom.

Her bed was still unmade - the sheets rumpled from the night before, the pillows in a disarray. She had been in too much of a hurry to make the bed that morning. In the middle of the mess was the shirt Danny had slept in: a balled-up white tank top. Lindsay picked it up, holding it tightly to her chest as if it were somehow a conduit between them.

She had lived 28 years of her life perfectly fine, not needing or depending on anyone else to make her content. Life had taught her independence and self-sufficiency. So how could someone she had known less than a year leave such a void behind? Perhaps, she realized, she had been missing something all along.

Turning off the lights, she crawled under the covers and curled up in the center of the bed - it made the empty space around her seem less expansive. She drifted off into a restless, troubled sleep.

_She dreamt that she and Danny were being chased through a dense, dark forest as a pair of oversized, snarling wolves chased them. They crawled on their hands and knees, sliding through the thick underbrush which snagged and scraped them, but the creatures were coming faster and faster. Danny disappeared, and Lindsay kept going, unsure if she should risk going back to look for him. _Lindsay awoke in a panic, sweaty and shaking, still clutching Danny's shirt.

This time, there was no one there to hold her.

* * *


	8. Danny: Wondering

Yes, it's sad. Still sad, will be sad for awhile yet. :) Hopefully we'll get some _squee_-licious moments to offset it in Wednesday's ep! As usual, thanks to my beta Cyko1003, and the readers, and reviewers, of this fic. **  
**

* * *

**Chapter 8**  
**Danny: Wondering**

Waking up without her was the hardest part.

Normally, on work days, Lindsay would reach over and turn off the alarm clock just before it rang, then nuzzle his neck gently to wake him. She would whisper in his ear, saying things that he found both shocking and thrilling. He would open his eyes to see her there, curled into him. How he loved the warmth of those moments, when they were skin to skin, nothing in between.

Yet this morning, when Danny awoke, Lindsay was not there. Her absence left him chilled. It took a moment for the fog in his brain to lift; for him to remember where he was, and exactly why. He was alone.

He rolled over and glanced at the clock. 10:47. He had certainly overslept. Fortunately, Joe was likely to be back and standing guard outside. Ed, Danny's night guard, was gruff and caustic, militant in both appearance and demeanor. Danny disliked Ed instantly, and he had the distinct impression that those feelings were mutual. He burrowed deeper under the covers, pretending to be anywhere else but this bleak room.

Before he could drift off again, he heard a light tapping on the door. "Come in," he mumbled as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Joe came in carrying a tray of food and two cups. The aroma of fresh coffee drifted over to Danny, and his stomach growled instinctively in response.

"Room service," joked Joe, placing plates, utensils, and food from the hotel kitchen onto a small round table. "I thought you'd probably be hungry, since you missed dinner last night. Hope you don't mind if I join you." He passed Danny a steaming mug. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," Danny said quietly, taking the cup and inhaling the scent of the coffee. "It was a lonely night."

"I know," Joe said gently. He took the remote and flicked on the television. It flashed to life, broadcasting all the news from the outside world.

"_Do _you know?" Danny asked. Without meaning it, irritation saturated his voice, making him sound petulant.

Joe studied him quietly. "Think about it. My wife has no idea where I am. In order to protect _you_, I can't have contact with her." There was no hint of chastisement in Joe's voice - he was simply being honest.

Danny was instantly humbled. "I'm sorry," he began apologetically, but Joe stopped him by reaching over and patting his shoulder.

"Son, I know how it hurts," he said. "That's all I'm trying to say."

The two men ate in silence. The food hardly interested Danny; he remembered Lindsay's comment from Sunday evening - _"Is that all you ever think about?" _The recollection caused a lump to form in his throat, making swallowing any more food impossible. He put down his fork and sipped his coffee instead. As he listened to the weather, he nearly laughed at the irony: sixty-three degrees and sunny, yet he would be denied fresh air for days.

A bubbly newscaster began rambling off the latest news. The trial was covered briefly - there was a clip of Sassone being led into the courtroom in his orange jumpsuit and leg shackles, a sight Danny found immensely satisfying.

Joe nodded in acknowledgement. "The D.A. will be coming up any day now to record your deposition. You ready?" he asked.

Danny shrugged. "I just want to get it over with," he admitted. He just wanted this all to go away, and let him get back to his life. Back to Lindsay.

He listened vaguely as the newscaster moved on to more local headlines. "The private chef of Ms. Cecelia Truesdale was murdered yesterday morning. Police say someone entered the rear entrance of the mansion early Monday, beating Alan Rothbart over the head and killing him."

On the screen was video shot from the morning of the crime: the outside of the fancy house, cops and various investigators filing in. Danny recognized a black pick-up truck in the background, and he smiled when he saw Stella climb out. It was nice to see a familiar face, even if just on television. Then the realization hit him forcefully: _wasn't Stella working that case with_--

_Oh God._

"Lindsay." He spoke her name just as he saw her.

He first spotted her brown curls, as she walked around the truck and then turned slowly, almost facing the camera before she disappeared into the mansion with Stella. Danny's fingers went numb, and the coffee mug slipped from his grasp. A brown puddle spread quickly over the table, engulfing the food and the napkins while he stared blankly.

Joe leapt up out of his seat and began swabbing up the mess. "Hey! Everything all right?" he asked with a worried glance.

Danny aimed the remote control and pushed "power", then put his head down on the table. "Can I be alone for a few minutes?" he asked softly.

Joe appeared to sense what had just occurred. "Sure," he said easily. "Let me get rid of our trash, and I'll be back in a bit."

When Joe left, the door lock clicking shut behind him, Danny stood up and began pacing. He felt as if he was going to explode. He was fighting tears, fighting rage, fighting fear. _Get yourself together, Messer, _he told himself. Being in a situation where he had no control was alien to him - and he hated feeling so helpless.

When Joe returned a few minutes later, Danny had calmed himself and was seated back at the table.

Joe sat down opposite him. "So, tell me about Lindsay," he said.

Danny beamed - he couldn't help it. The thought of her made him grin so hard that his face hurt.

"Wow, you actually _can _smile," Joe laughed.

The two men talked for hours. Danny told Joe about Lindsay - how they first met, how they taunted each other like schoolchildren for months, how they finally came together. He learned that Joe's wife, Roberta, had once dumped a milkshake over his head for teasing her. Danny told of how Lindsay was from out west, and Joe said that he had spent one summer at a hunting cabin in Montana. Joe listened while Danny explained how Lindsay had become his rock, through everything with his brother and Tanglewood. She kept him going and provided him with a sense of escape.

Talking about Lindsay in such vivid detail made Danny feel closer to her, so close he swore he could feel her presence. He sighed at the realization of his present state, and how far apart they truly were. "And now, it's been over twenty-four hours since I talked to her," he said. "I wonder what she is thinking about all this."

"And you're wondering if she'll stand by you," Joe predicted.

Danny remembered the cigarette butt containing his own DNA, and how Lindsay had unwavering faith in him. "She's stood by me before, but will she do it again?" he pondered, biting his lip. "What if I'm more trouble than I'm worth?"

Joe smiled sympathetically. "Speaking of trouble," he said, "my shift is almost up. I need to go out and do some paperwork. Catch you tomorrow morning?" He reached out his hand, which Danny shook.

"See ya, Joe," he said, sad to lose the companionship. Joe's fatherly presence was a nice distraction.

Before walking out the door, Joe turned back to Danny one more time. "What is your biggest fear?" he questioned. "What if she doesn't stand by you this time?"

Danny sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled with a shudder. His mind wouldn't let him venture to this place, but he knew the answer the question nonetheless: "Then I'll break."

----

Danny was lying on his bed that evening, when Ed walked in the room without knocking. He was carrying a stack of magazines, which he dropped onto the bed with such force that Danny found it jarring.

"Some magazines," Ed announced gruffly. "Don't write in them or tear anything out."

Danny looked blankly at the stack of outdated magazines, which included _Women's Day_ and _Martha Stewart Living_. "Do I look like the kind of guy who would read these?" he snapped irritably.

"Suit yourself," grunted Ed, leaving the room as quickly as he came. "It's not my job to entertain you."

"Ass," Danny muttered under his breath once the door shut. Out of sheer boredom, he thumbed through the magazines until he found a cover that didn't look remotely feminine or domestic. _Conde Nast Traveler_, the title read. Danny flipped open to a random page illustrating a beautiful spread of mountain peaks, and his eyes settled on the article name: "Montana Biking Trails".

_Montana. _

The toxic mix of grief and anger coursed through him once again, and he hurled the magazine across the room, where it smacked against the wall and fell into a tattered heap.

"Don't give up on me," he whispered.


	9. Lindsay: Waiting

**A/N: **Same disclaimers apply, as always. I've had a crazy week and haven't had the opportunity to respond to your reviews yet - forgive me, I'm trying to catch up! But I wanted to keep the story rolling... here is 9, and it is a lot of case stuff. Bear with me, I promise it will make sense later. Credit to Cyko1003, by Beta Mistress.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 9**  
**Lindsay: Waiting**

Tuesday morning dawned gray and lonesome for Lindsay. She felt as if she were running on autopilot; watching a series of commercials and waiting for her own life to return from interruption. In an attempt to avoid the signs of Danny that existed everywhere in her apartment - his spare clothes, his toothbrush - she left for work in a rush. Solving crimes helped her avoid pain - this wasn't the first time in her life she had turned to her career for solace.

As soon as she arrived at the lab, she went straight to Stella's office so they could develop their game plan for the day. She was thankful when Stella failed to ask how she was holding up - Lindsay hated lying, she just wanted to get down to business.

"Sid's completed the autopsy," Stella informed her. "He wants us to meet him in the morgue - let's suit up and do that first. Maybe he'll have some answers."

In the locker room, as she and Stella slid coveralls on over their street clothes, Lindsay quickly checked her cell phone. _No new messages_, the screen blinked.

Stella noticed, and smiled sympathetically. "You know Danny can't call you," she reminded gently.

Lindsay silently scolded herself for having a moment of weakness in front of Stella. Throughout her relationship with Danny, she had been determined to never let her heart affect her job. "I know," she sighed. "I just wonder if he's thinking of me at all."

Stella grinned and put her arm around Lindsay's shoulder as they left the locker rooms, now clad in drab navy blue from head to toe. "I _know_ he's thinking of you," she promised.

Lindsay nodded, still trying to push down the emotions that threatened to boil over. Having a friend like Stella made her feel less alone. They walked through the swinging doors of the morgue, where Hammerback stood waiting.

"My two favorite girls!" he declared pleasantly. If anyone could bring a chuckle out of Lindsay right now, it was the likeable, albeit odd, medical examiner. He whipped a sheet off of the body of Alan Rothbart, causing white flour to billow out in all directions.

"Cause of death was a subdural hematoma, the result of a blow from a heavy, rounded object," Hammerback said. Turning to the computer screen, he brought up an enlarged photo of the fatal injury. "When we examine the skull here, we see the shape of the wound is a partial semi-circle, consistent with the bottom of a can." He pulled out the tomato sauce can, which was still sealed in a plastic bag, and handed it to Lindsay for comparison. When she held the bottom edge of the can up to the enlarged image of the wound, the match was evident.

"There's you murder weapon," Hammerback nodded. "From the location of the wound on the head, you're looking for a tall killer. Given the height of our victim, the killer would have to be around six-two in order to come down at that angle with the can."

Lindsay frowned at Stella. "Travis Gonzales is short - he's only about my height."

Stella nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it's back to the guest list for now," she said. "Maybe someone who attended the benefit made 'friends' with Chef Rothbart."

Hammerback's eyes widened. "Ah, a chef? I thought I smelled marinara."

"Tomato sauce leaked from the can," Stella explained. "And Trace confirmed what we pretty much knew from the start: the substance covering the body was all-purpose, unbleached wheat flour."

"Such a waste," Hammerback murmured under his breath, a faraway look in his eyes as he gazed at the corpse before him.

Lindsay nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Truesdale was very fond of him."

Hammerback blinked. "No, I meant the tomato sauce," he said. Lindsay and Stella exchanged bewildered looks. "Why, when I was head chef of La Bella Rosa, I made the most delectable manicotti al forno you've ever tasted."

Stella patted his shoulder as she and Lindsay left. "I believe it, Sid," she laughed.

While changing out of their coveralls, Lindsay and Stella weighed their options out loud.

"We're looking for someone very tall," Lindsay said. "At least that's a start. Unless his fingerprints come back as a match, Gonzales is basically off the hook. Maybe we'll have better luck with the guest list."

Stella nodded. "We've got quite a list - let's get started."

-----------------------------------

It had been a grueling day of questioning potential suspects. Despite the exhaustion she felt, Lindsay was glad to be busy. There were less opportunities for sorrow to creep up on her when her mind was occupied. Still, she would often stop and think, _Where was Danny right now? What was he doing this very second?_ It was just not the same without him - she missed seeing his grin around every corner, sneaking up behind her, casting longing glances her way at highly inappropriate times.

The majority of the guests Stella and Lindsay interviewed that day were snobby, uptight, wealthy people who certainly had no need for the measly ten thousand dollars Mrs. Truesdale had stashed away. They also didn't hesitate to express their displeasure at being dragged down to headquarters. None of them were able to provide any solid, relevant information to the case.

Stella and Lindsay's final interview of the day was Dori Price, a stark contrast to the earlier crowd. In her mid-30's, short and round with dark hair and pale skin, she had the haggard appearance of someone much older than she truly was. Her clothes were simple and plain, and she wore no jewelry, save the wedding band on her left ringer finger. The first thing Lindsay noticed was a wound on the woman's right hand.

"What happened?" she asked Dori, gesturing to the wound. "It looks like a bite." She leaned in for a closer look.

Dori laughed uneasily, and covered the mark with her opposing hand. "No, it's just a scrape. An accident."

"You were at the benefit at the Truesdale home last month, correct?" Lindsay asked.

"Yes, I'm a volunteer for the humane society. All of the volunteers were invited." Dori shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not into those high-class parties, but Mrs. Truesdale always bragged about her money. I was curious to see her place."

"Who did you attend the party with?" Lindsay nodded towards the ring on Dori's finger. "Your husband?"

Dori shook her head quickly. "No, no, I went alone. My husband was… away."

"Away?" asked Lindsay, an unspoken request for details.

"In the Peace Corps," Dori explained. "He just returned last month. For a whole year, I had no idea exactly where he was. Somewhere in Guatemala, helping to build schools. I missed him so much, I was so lonely." Her eyes began to well up, and Lindsay felt her own composure in danger of faltering. _I know_, she wanted to say.

Stella seemed to sense the effect this had on Lindsay, and took over the questioning. "Mrs. Roberts, did you know Mrs. Truesdale well?"

"No," Dori replied, appearing antsy. "We don't exactly run in the same crowd. I was only at her house that one time."

"Did you happen to notice anyone suspicious at that benefit?" Stella inquired. "Maybe someone was snooping around where they weren't supposed to be? Somebody who looked out of place?"

Dori shook her head. "No, nothing like that." She glanced anxiously at the clock. "Can I go now? I really don't know anything. My husband gets angry if I don't have his dinner ready at 5."

Stella stood up and opened the door. "Sure," she said, handing Dori a business card when she brushed by. "Call me if you remember anything from that night."

"She's odd, that's for sure," Lindsay remarked as they watched the woman scurry off. "But she's not tall enough to have committed the crime."

"Something was up, she seemed stressed when we brought up her husband. I say we keep her on our radar," Stella said. She yawned and looked at her watch. "Let's call it a day," she suggested.

Once again, Lindsay was divided between feeling relief and apprehension: it had been a tiresome day, but she wasn't ready for another lonely night.

She was gathering up her belongings when Mac waved her into his office.

"How are you doing, Lindsay?" Mac asked, pointing her to a chair. Lindsay sat down reluctantly. The last thing she wanted to do was crack in front of her boss.

"I'm handling it," she said, looking down into her lap. _Don't cry, not now, not here_, she thought. She had not broken down yet, and she _would not_. "I'd never let it affect my job," she added, lifting her chin proudly.

Mac smiled. "I know that, that's not what I meant. I really meant what I said - _how are you_?"

Lindsay drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair and looked up at the ceiling. She was afraid to open her mouth, for fear that a sob would slip out.

When she didn't respond, Mac leaned forward in his chair, placing his hands on the desk in front of him. His face portrayed both intuition and compassion. "I know you care about Danny," he said softly. "A lot. And I do too, Lindsay. Just know that - I did this to protect him."

Lindsay nodded. As painful as this separation was, she did understand. She understood that the drastic step was necessary to keep Danny safe, and that was all she wanted.

She also hoped that Danny understood just how much she was missing him.

* * *

_ Hint of things to come: next chatper is title "Breakthrough."_ ;) 


	10. Danny: Breakthrough

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in updates. I was busy staring at my tv screen and rewatching the Hug Scene over and over... and over. And-- you get the point. **  
Caution: **If you get easily emotional from fics, and happen to be in a public setting like school or work, **don't read this right now**. Wait til you are alone, lol. My test subjects have told me it is a tear-jerker. Don't hate me, I promise I'll make up for it later. ;)

* * *

**Chapter 10**  
**Danny: Breakthrough**

A plan was hatching.

The idea came to Danny on Tuesday night: Ed kept his cell phone clipped to the edge of his belt, where it dangled precariously, threatening to drop with each step the man took. Now a scheme was burning in Danny's brain; a raging inferno that consumed his every thought.

He would get to her. Nothing would stop him.

Danny spent all day Wednesday watching television, flipping through the stack of magazines, chatting amiably with Joe. His mind, however, was busy weaving a web, a foolproof plot to make contact with the one person he was desperately missing.

The hours ticked by slowly as Danny waited for evening to come. For the first time, he was elated to see Ed walk through the door. The guard grunted his usual brusque hello, then returned to his station outside of the room. When Ed brought the dinner tray in, Danny double-checked to see if the phone was in its usual, unsteady position. It was. He forced down only a portion of his dinner, too nervous to eat very much. After watching some mindless television, he took a shower; it was his one refuge in this box he was confined in. He would stand there with the hot water beating down on his back, sluicing over his body and rinsing away the tension.

Around nine that night, when his excitement was almost unbearable, Danny was finally ready to enact his plan. He began by carefully arranging himself in an awkward position on the floor, to appear as if he had fallen. He removed his glasses and tossed them aside haphazardly, for further effect.

"HELP!" he shouted, on his chest with his legs curled slightly to one side. Silence. He tried again, louder, "I NEED HELP!"

At last he heard the click of the door being unlocked, and Ed stomped in. "What's your prob--" He stopped mid-complaint when he saw Danny down on the floor. He gawked for a moment, then rushed over to help. "What happened? Are you alright?" he asked.

Danny noted that this was the first time he had seen any emotion from the man. "I got dizzy and fell. Can you bring me some water?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"Sure," Ed said, seemingly frightened to see his charge in such a condition. "You stay right here, I'll be back." Ed returned a few moments later with a bottle of water, and helped Danny up to a sitting position. With his hand supporting Danny's back, he encouraged him to take a drink. Danny sipped obediently.

"Help me stand," Danny mumbled, replacing his glasses.

"You sure?" asked Ed skeptically.

Danny just nodded. He started to push himself up; Ed grasped both of his arms for support. Danny suddenly pitched forward and stumbled, grabbing Ed around the waist to steady himself. In a flash, while pretending to recover from the near-fall, Danny snagged the cell phone from Ed's belt and slipped it in his back pocket.

"Whoa, thanks," he said, still trying his best to appear unsteady.

Ed guided Danny cautiously to the bed. "You'd better lay down," he instructed. "Get some sleep, you'll feel better."

_I will feel better_, Danny thought, his heart seizing with joy at the thought of the phone he now possessed. A link to Lindsay. A lifeline.

For now, he feigned tiredness, and crawled underneath the covers. He waited until he heard the click of the lock in the door which signified Ed's exit, before pulling out the phone.

Danny had decided to call Lindsay's apartment line, rather than her cell phone. He didn't want to catch her if she was working late at the lab, and risk her getting upset there. If she wasn't home, he would leave her a message, and tell her… _Tell her what?_ he asked himself. What exactly was he going to say? He had no idea, but he needed to do it before Ed noticed that his phone was missing.

Sliding out of bed, Danny walked to the far side of the room so Ed couldn't hear him. He dialed Lindsay's number, and held his breath as it rang. _Please be home, _he thought_. I need you tonight._

After three rings, she answered. Her voice was like water raining over his parched senses.

"Hello?" She sounded breathless.

"Montana," he whispered. "It's me."

"Danny?" she gasped. "Oh, God! Where are you?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "Some hotel room they've got me in. I stole a cell phone, Linds, and I've only got a few minutes."

"I miss you," she said softly.

Danny smiled. God, he missed her. He would give positively anything to touch her right now. "I miss you, too," he said. "You're all I think about."

"It's so good to hear your voice," Lindsay said, her own voice cracking slightly.

They were both quiet for a few seconds, just concentrating on the sound of each other's breathing, savoring what they knew wouldn't last long.

"Hey," Danny said, trying to lighten the conversation. "I saw you on television yesterday morning." He grinned at the recollection.

"You did?" asked Lindsay with a slight chuckle. "At the Truesdale place?"

"Yeah, something like that," he replied. _You were so beautiful_, he thought, _as always_. Again, silence ensued. Danny swallowed a few times, trying to remove the lump in his throat. Damn, this was harder than he imagined. There were so many things he needed to tell her, and he didn't know where to begin.

"When are you coming home?" Lindsay's voice cracked again, this time at the word 'home'. It made Danny's heart ache to know she was in pain, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to help it.

"I don't know, but look," he said, wrestling the emotions which threatened to take complete control of him. "Lindsay, I am so sorry. I am so sorry I dragged you into this—"

"Danny you didn't drag me into anything," she choked out, evidently close to weeping. "I've always just wanted to be with you, no matter what."

"Let me finish," he continued in a rush. "It kills me to know you're hurting, and that it's my fault."

"It's not your fault," she argued, then added gently, "and I know you'd give anything to change the circumstances. So would I."

"Just listen," Danny pleaded, knowing that time was running out and wanting to get these words off his chest. "When I get back home, and that's going to be soon, I am going to make this up to you. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Lindsay."

She was silent, and then he heard muffled sounds. She was crying. _Oh God_, he thought. As if he wasn't already having trouble holding back his own tears.

"I want you to listen to me," Danny said firmly. "When I get back there, I'm not ever letting you—" he stopped, wiping an unchecked tear from his eye. He swore silently at himself for crying, then tried to finish. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again. Not ever." He waited for a response, but just heard more muffled sounds.

"Lindsay? Lindsay, do you hear me?" His vision was completely blurred now from his own tears.

"Yes," she finally responded. "Danny, I miss you so much."

"Me too, me too," he whispered softly. He knew his time with Lindsay was slipping away. "Look, Linds, we're going to have to say goodbye now."

"No! Please," she begged him, her voice strangled with grief. "_Not those words_. Just a few more minutes."

Danny was about to agree when he suddenly heard a shout in the hallway, and a key in the door. _Dammit._ He had to hurry. "Lindsay?"

"What, Danny?"

Ed crashed through the door, and Danny attempted to get one last thing out. The most important thing. "Lindsay, I--"

The cell phone was wrenched from his hand.

"-love you."

But it was too late.

* * *


	11. Lindsay: Breakdown

**Chapter 11**  
**Lindsay: Breakdown**

"Danny? Danny!"

Lindsay frantically pressed the buttons on her phone in a desperate attempt to reconnect with Danny. The receiver, slippery with tears, continuously slid from her grasp.

The call had been so unexpected, so sudden. She had just walked in the door from a fruitless day of working on the Rothbart case – no leads, no closer to finding the killer. When she heard the phone ringing, she dropped her purse and dashed to the bedroom, snatching it up just in time. Hearing Danny's voice had been jarring; like a dream where you are partially awake, with the knowledge that it isn't real. His presence, even if just on the other end of the phone, was the poultice she needed after the past few days of uncertainties and isolation.

However, hearing him also caused the tears she had been refusing to release to pour over like a broken dam. She felt as though her sanity had been swept away in its wake. Her first thoughts left her trembling with excitement and hope: did this mean he was going to be released soon? Maybe he was even on his way home already? The lack of answers was frustrating and heartbreaking. She had tried to stay composed, if not simply for Danny's sake, but her emotions had simply gotten the best of her.

She wasn't sure how long they had spoken for – less than five minutes likely. Now he had disappeared once again. _I, what? _Lindsay wondered_. What was he about to say? _Though deep down she knew it was futile, she continued shouting into the phone. "Danny! Dammit, Danny, come back! What were you about to tell me?"

"Danny," she begged. "Please."

When she listened again, she heard only the cold blare of a dial tone. She sank to the carpeted floor of her bedroom, the phone receiver still in her hand. He was gone.

Losing him all over again caused anger to pump wildly through her veins. Dropping the phone receiver, she began pounding her fists furiously against the mattress, battering it over and over until her arms became numb. She swore with every punch. _Damn him for calling me. Damn him for making me love him. Damn him for hanging up. Damn him for making me break. Damn whoever took him from me. _

She lowered herself slowly onto the bed, the rage having abated at last. Lindsay hated crying; she thought it was a sign of weakness and a lack of self-control. She had lost that battle when she was on the phone with Danny, and now she wept even more. She wept for herself, for Danny, for the distance between them. She never knew it was possible to cry oneself to exhaustion; tonight, she did just that.

She stopped crying when the truth settled over her, heavy as a blanket. The phone had long since ceased its beeping, and simply gone dead. Danny was gone, and she didn't know where he was, or when he would be back. Worse, she had no control over the situation.

She stayed curled up in the fetal position in the middle of her bed, and time was lost to her, until the pinkish tint of the morning sky crept through the blinds. One last tear slipped down her cheek.

--------------------

Lindsay sat at her desk on Thursday morning, flipping aimlessly through the files from her case. A cup of tepid coffee sat nearby, untouched; instead she was wishing for something infinitely stronger to numb her senses. With her puffy, red-rimmed eyes, she felt like she was wearing a sign over her head announcing the breakdown she had last night. _Get over it_, she berated herself, in an attempt to summon up the energy she needed to solve this crime.

Still, she sat frozen, unable to focus on the material in front of her. In fact, she barely registered it when a lab tech slipped in the room and placed a folder on her desk.

---

"Stella!" Lindsay said breathlessly as she finally caught up to her partner. "AFIS finally got a hit on the prints from our murder weapon!"

"From the look on your face, I'm guessing this is big," said Stella hopefully.

Lindsay nodded, waving a printout of a mug shot. "The prints match a Damien Price. Does that name ring a bell?"

"Price… Dori's husband?" exclaimed Stella, taking the printout and reading the information aloud. "Damien Price was released from jail one month ago, his priors include aggravated assault and possession of cocaine."

"It gets even better," added Lindsay. "At his parole hearing last month, his sister spoke on his behalf. Her name is Alice McMillian, an employee of Cecelia Truesdale."

Stella gaped for a moment, then nodded. "I remember Alice, one of the maids." She snapped her fingers. "_That's_ the connection – that must be how Damien learned about the money hidden in the pantry."

Lindsay loved these moments, when all the puzzle pieces were finally about to snap together. "Dori Price lied about where her husband was," she said. "He may not have been at the benefit, but jail is hardly the Peace Corps."

"I think it's time we dropped in on the Prices," Stella said, pulling out her cell phone. "I'll call Flack and have us meet him there."

Lindsay make a quick stop at her desk to retrieve her jacket before they left. Her eyes settled on a small framed photo which she used as a paperweight. It was a picture of herself with Danny, taken two months prior when they went hiking in the Catskills. It had been a warm summer afternoon, and Lindsay had asked a passerby to snap their photo. _We were so happy_, she thought, then corrected herself. _Are happy. Will be happy again. _As she went to catch up with Stella, she tried to emblazon that sweet moment in her mind.

---

Flack hammered on the front door of the Price home. Lindsay stood just behind him. Dori had lied to her face; that deceit combined with her already unstable emotions made her ready for battle. A man opened the door – tall, Lindsay noted as he towered over her. Certainly tall enough to have hit Alan Rothbart over the head with a heavy can.

"Damien Price?" Flack barked.

"Yes?" the man looked at them blankly.

Dori's pale face appeared just beyond her husband's shoulder. "Let them in, Honey," she said. "They're here about that chef who was killed."

They entered the meager ranch-style house, which Lindsay noted had an odd odor somewhere between vinegar and potpourri. A gray tabby cat was stretched on the windowsill, basking in the morning sun.

Dori glanced at them nervously. "I told you, we don't know anything," she said.

Stella nodded. "Sure," she said sarcastically. "Then can you explain how the fingerprints we found on the murder weapon match the fingerprints of your husband."

Lindsay dove in. "Or why you told us your husband was in the Peace Corps, when he was really in prison?"

Damien swerved to look at his wife. "The Peace Corps?" he asked, stunned.

Dori balked for a moment, like a wild animal caught in a vehicle's headlights. Then she began speaking in a rush. "I just didn't want to tell you he was in jail," she argued. "I was afraid you'd try to pin it on him." She shrugged, as if it was the most logical explanation possible.

Lindsay noticed a look pass between the husband and wife; an unspoken pact. _Go with it_, the look said, _agree with my lie_. As she studied them further, her eyes settled on a red stain on Damien's beige jacket. It was not dark enough to be blood, but the perfect color and consistency for… tomato sauce.

"You did kill Alan Rothbart," Lindsay said suddenly to Damien. She pointed one finger at the stain. His mouth opened, but no response came out.

Stella grabbed a framed photo off of a shelf, and waved it in Damien's face. "Your sister worked for Mrs. Truesdale," she snapped. "She must have let it slip that there was ten thousand dollars hidden between pages 123 and 124 of _Everyday Seafood Delights_."

"Oh, God," murmured Damien. He was cornered. Dori began to weep.

Lindsay glanced at the photograph Stella had replaced. Dori and her sister-in-law were in formal dress at the Truesdale home – probably the Humane Society benefit. In the background she could see the frail figure of Mrs. Truesdale, clutching on of her faithful four-legged companions.

Suddenly, Lindsay turned to look at Dori's hand. The bite.

"You were there," she said sharply to her. "You _knew_."

"I think we have enough for an arrest, folks," Flack announced jovially, gesturing to several uniformed officers nearby. "Actually, two arrests." He turned to Lindsay and Stella. "We'll take them back the station, and I'll get Damien's statement." Then he added to Stella, "You want to work on the Missus, see if she knows anything?"

"I'll do it," volunteered Lindsay. It was all making sense to her now – Dori claiming her husband was away, the bite mark on her hand. Lindsay's current state of mind - the pain and loss, the brief conversation with Danny fresh in her mind - allowed her to be more perceptive to this woman's motivation. She watched as Dori was lead from the house in handcuffs. The woman kept swinging her head around in an attempt to make eye contact with her husband one last time.

"She covered for her husband," Lindsay said softly, "and I think I know why."


	12. Danny: Stripped

**A/N: **Same disclaimers, too lazy to type them. There are some unrealistic legal elements in this chapter, please excuse them and write them off as creative license. :) It's all about the D/L... what else matters!**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 12**  
**Danny: Stripped**

"What the _hell_ did you think you were _doing_?" Ed roared.

Danny was seated on a chair in middle of the room as the enraged guard paced back and forth in front of him.

"Do you realize what could have happened?" Ed inquired, fury dripping from his voice.

Danny considered for a moment that this was what it must be like to be on the other side of the interrogation table. Like many of the killers he had faced in his career, he had no remorse for the choice he had made.

Ed moved within inches of Danny's face, and pointed his index finger at him. "If your girl's phone was bugged, they could be finding out where you are. _Right. This._ _Minute_." The last three words came with forceful jabs of his finger, almost poking Danny's eye.

Before more heated words could be exchanged, the door opened quietly, and Joe stepped in. Danny had never been so relieved to see him; though he looked grim and solemn, at least he wasn't spewing venom like Ed.

"Why don't you go take a break," Joe suggested to Ed. "I'll finish this shift."

"Fine," Ed huffed. "You take the little rat." He turned to Danny with one last glare. "You should be ashamed of yourself," he chastised.

"You don't understand," Danny protested weakly, standing up and walking to his bed. He was feeling woozy, and yearned to lie down.

Ed laughed acerbically. "Oh I understand, completely. You risked this whole operation, just for a _piece of ass."_

Like a rubber band that had reached its stretch capacity, Danny sprung across the room, his fist intent on meeting Ed's nose. Before he could make contact, Joe dove in and caught him, holding him back as he thrashed wildly with rage.

"Get out of here!" shouted Danny. "You don't know her! You don't know a thing about her, or a thing about us," he snarled at Ed's retreating figure.

"Easy, easy!" Joe cried, trying desperately to retain his grip despite Danny's struggling.

Ed disappeared out the door, and Danny's body went limp. He was still trembling with anger when Joe released him. "Son of a bitch," he whispered, feeling as though his skin had been peeled off, leaving him raw and brutally exposed.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?" asked Joe.

"I stole his phone," Danny said simply. "I called Lindsay."

Joe rubbed his forehead, and groaned softly. "I'm going to spare you the scolding, because I think you must know how dangerous that was. How… _stupid_." Joe took a deep breath. "How completely understandable."

Having someone grasp his reasoning made all the difference to Danny. He slumped down into his bed, not even bothering to slide under the covers.

"I'd do it all over again," he said, his voice muffled from the pillow in which he had buried his face, "if I had the chance."

"Go to sleep," was Joe's response.

"Will you be here in the morning?" Danny asked, hopeful.

"I will."

-------------

Danny slept a hard, dreamless sleep. When he was awakened by Joe gently shaking his shoulder, he moaned in protest. It seemed as if he had drifted off only seconds ago, trying to block the sound of Lindsay crying from his memory. He wanted to spend all day like this, blissfully anesthetized and unaware, until he could be released and return to her.

"What?" Danny asked groggily.

"Sorry, Son," Joe said quietly. "The District Attorney's on his way here – you've got to give your deposition in forty-five minutes."

Danny sat up quickly, his stomach starting to form knots. Joe was holding a sports jacket, dress shirt, and tie.

"They'll only see you from the waist up," he smiled. "I think you and I are about the same size."

"Thanks," Danny nodded numbly, accepting the clothes. He wasn't prepared for this – especially after last night. He was wound up and anxious enough as it was.

He showered and dressed, though passed on breakfast because he was too uneasy to eat. Precisely on time, D.A. Darren Johnson entered the room, along with two legal clerks, a videographer, and a technical assistant. Along with Danny and Joe, the seven people crowded into the small windowless room made the air stifling. Joe left, resuming his position outside the door, and Danny sat in a chair that was pushed against the wall specifically for this moment.

Johnson had a most confident air about him. As the technician prepared the equipment which would broadcast the deposition directly to the courtroom, Johnson filled Danny in on the case thus far.

"Sassone is sweating bullets," he said smoothly, leaning over to slip a microphone on Danny's lapel. "The evidence is stacking up solidly. With your testimony, he'll never see the light of day again." He patted Danny's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm just going to ask you about what happened that night in '91, and about your knowledge of Sonny through your brother. Relax, this will be quick and painless."

Danny nodded, staring warily at the video camera that was pointed straight at him. He wanted to get this over with.

"We're ready," announced the technician, hooking up one last cable and stepping back with an appraising nod.

Johnson pulled out his notebook and a pen. "Let's do it," he said. The videographer held up three fingers, then two, then one; Johnson began speaking.

Danny answered questions for the next thirty minutes, laying out every bit of information he knew about the Tanglewood Boys. It came to him easily, and he felt that each revelation was like stripping off a heavy piece of clothing – he was now completely rid of this burden.

He knew, in a logical sense, that he was speaking to the jury, the press, the judge, plus Sassone himself. But those weren't the faces he saw. Through it all, he only saw one face. Lindsay's.

----------

After the group from the D.A.'s office had left, Danny returned to his bed. Given the lack of sleep involved with his job, he realized that he had spent more time in bed in the past several days than he had in a whole year's worth of nights. When it came down to sleeping, or lying awake and worrying about Lindsay resenting or leaving him, the choice was simple.

A light tapping was heard from the door, and Joe poked his head in. "I have a special surprise for you," he said, toting a brown paper bag. "After last night, and your deposition, I thought you could use this."

Danny sat up and greedily accepted the bag. Inside was a bottle of tequila and a shot glass. He looked at it for a moment, shocked, but also very pleased. _Just what I need_, he thought. "Thanks. How did you manage-?" he started.

Joe winked, and held up his hand. "Don't mention it," he said.

Both men sat down at the table, and Danny eagerly twisted off the bottle cap. He poured himself a shot, tossed it back, then went for another. "Want some?" he asked Joe.

Joe grinned and shook his head. "No, you go right ahead."

"Come on, Joe," Danny teased. "Just one shot – no one will ever know."

Joe shook his head, attempting to be serious but for the twinkle in his eye. "Sorry, I'm on duty. That would be unethical."

Danny snorted, downing another shot himself. "Oh, so providing me with the booze _wasn't _unethical?" He held out the bottle towards Joe. "Come on, you've already broken the rules."

Joe shook his head again.

"Just one," Danny repeated, taking another swig himself, then another. He was up to six. "You'd better hurry, before it's all gone."

Despite his prodding, Danny was surprised when Joe reached over, took the bottle, poured himself a splash into an empty coffee mug. He swallowed it down, then said, "I could be fired for this."

Danny wagged his finger at Joe, the alcohol beginning to make him giddy. "Your secret face is me," he slurred. "I mean, my safe is a secret…" He wrinkled his brow in confusion at the words that were not coming out right.

Joe laughed. "I get it, I get it! You won't tell a soul." He took another swig, then capped the bottle and put it back in the bag. "I think you've had enough too, pal."

Danny's brain was foggy, but the alcohol burning through his system gave him a sense of elation. He studied his new friend carefully. "Tell me why you left patrol, to do a boring job like this."

Joe frowned, contemplating a response. He picked at the hem of his shirt as he began speaking. "Nine years ago, when my brother Grant was thirty-two, he went to the bank," he began, rocking his chair slightly. "He was going in to withdrawal twenty bucks. Twenty bucks, that's it. There were only four other people in the bank. One turned out to be a mob hit man, who took out the owner of the bank with his shotgun, then turned it on everyone else. My brother lost a kidney from that bullet, but he survived."

Danny nodded, listening intently. Something, perhaps his own experience, told him this wasn't going to be a happy ending.

"He was supposed to testify when the hit man went on trial six months later. The guy was facing the death penalty, for three murders." He swallowed. "Grant never got to testify."

Danny's breath caught sharply. "They took him out?" he asked, making more of a statement than a question.

Joe nodded, pain etched across the face that was usually so relaxed and gentle. "And that day, I decided I would never allow that to happen to another family. Not under my watch." He reached down and retrieved the bottle of tequila from the bag with a shaky hand, and poured himself another shot.

"I'm sorry," Danny said hoarsely, the facts sobering him. "I'm sorry about your brother, but I'm not sorry for what I did last night." He remember the rush of indescribable joy he felt when he first heard Lindsay's voice; a sound normally familiar to him, and now so missed and so craved.

Joe nodded. "I know, Son. It's funny how missing someone so bad can make a person do crazy things."


	13. Lindsay: Closer

**a/n: **Two chapters at once! Since this entire thing is complete, I decided to upload 13 and 14 together. One more chapter after that - I want to get this fic wrapped so I can obey my newest plot bunnies. Thirteen deals with wrapping up of the crime. And yes there will be D/L in the final chap! ;)

* * *

**Chapter 13**  
**Lindsay: Closer**

It had all come down to one thing: separation.

Lindsay sat reading a copy of the statement Damien Price had given to Flack that afternoon. Looking back, she wished she had seen the truth that was right before her; it was simple. The fear of of being separated by an unconquerable distance was at the root of this murder. The papers in her hand told the story.

Damien had been imprisoned for fourteen months for drug possession, while Dori waited and tried to go on with her life. When he was released, they had a happy reunion, but sadly, it didn't last beyond a week or two. Their finances were in trouble. He couldn't find a steady job, and his continuing drug habit emptied his wallet. Damien worried that his wife, who had been slightly distant lately, would decide to leave him. That was something he simply couldn't take, and he knew desperate measures were called for.

He remembered his sister Alice complaining about how Mrs. Truesdale tossed her money around like confetti. _She even keeps ten thousand in spare cash in the pantry_, she had told him, _stuffed in a fish cookbook_. It was almost like an omen.

That morning, he snuck to the mansion before dawn. He hadn't wanted to kill anyone; but when Alan Rothbart caught him in the act, he knew it would mean more jail time… more time away from Dori. So he grabbed the largest item that was within reach – a giant can of tomato sauce - and came down with more force than he ever thought possible. Damien said that the spilled flour was an accident, and that Dori had no knowledge of what he did. He agreed to plead guilty to one count of breaking and entering, and one count of second-degree murder.

Case closed.

Or not.

Lindsay had seen the protective, desperate look in Dori's eyes, and believed strongly that the woman had been at the mansion the morning of the crime, then tried to cover for her husband. It never ceased to appall her what people would do for love. Yet lately, she felt that perhaps she could understand the thin line between love and insanity. Multiple times throughout the past few days she could feel herself wobbling as she balanced with one foot on each side of that line. What she couldn't comprehend was the violent result, even if the motive was genuine emotion. She had a job to do, after all. She sighed and tried to push Danny out of her mind, and block off the feelings that softened her towards this potential criminal.

Stella poked her head around the door. "Dori's there now," she informed Lindsay, nodding towards the interrogation room. "Go ahead in."

Lindsay went in sat down across the table from Dori, who was almost constantly wiping her eyes with tissue.

"It must be hard," Lindsay said, an edge to her voice. "It looks like your husband will be in jail for the rest of his life. For the rest of _your_ life."

"I can't believe he did it," Dori gulped, reaching for he box of fresh tissues Lindsay had brought in.

"Can't you?" asked Lindsay. "He did it for you. He thought the money would solve all your problems, keep you two together."

"I had no idea," said Dori with a hiccup. "I'm just in shock right now."

Lindsay crossed her arms, and stared at the sniffling woman across from her. "You can stop lying now, Dori. Be straight with me – you knew about the murder."

Dori shook her head, but the terror in her eyes betrayed her.

"Yes. You want to know how I know?" Lindsay continued. "The bite on your hand is the perfect size for a small-sized dog's jaw. It looks too fresh to have happened last month at the benefit you attended. Come on, Dori, did one of Mrs. Truesdale's pups introduce itself to you Monday morning?"

Fresh tears slid down Dori's cheeks, onto the cold metal table. "No," she argued. "No!"

"So you covered for your husband," Lindsay said nonchalantly, trying to appeal to Dori's emotions. "No one can blame you for not wanting to be separated from him again."

"If I go to prison, will I ever see him again?" Dori asked suddenly.

"What?" asked Lindsay flabbergasted. Was the woman confessing now after all?

"I followed him," Dori admitted. "I thought he was doing drugs again, and that he was going to see his supplier, but instead he went to the Truesdale mansion. His sister works there, so I decided to just go in." She paused, twisting her wedding band around her finger. "When I walked in the back door, I saw the chef lying there, and Damien had the cash in his hand. Then I realized what had happened, so I told him to get out."

"Then you tried to cover up any evidence he might have left," Lindsay prompted.

Dori nodded. "I knew about the neighbor who was always harassing Alan," she explained. "Alice always talked about how the staff was scared of him."

"You framed Travis Gonzales using _flour_," Lindsay said. "Pretty creative, I have to say."

"I poured flour all over the place, and made a bunch of noise to attract him. I figured if he came and left tracks in the mess, the police would arrest him and wouldn't even look at Damien. The little dog came running back right before I left, and clamped down onto my hand."

Lindsay was silent as she tried to imagine the events of that morning. The puzzle had now been solved, each piece snapping together cleanly.

Dori was now crying openly. "I don't know what I was thinking," she whimpered. "The only thought that occurred to me was that I couldn't bear being away from my husband again. He's a good man, he just got in some trouble, made a bad choice."

Lindsay never felt empathy for criminals, no matter the cause. So it frustrated her to feel a jolt of compassion, however tiny it was. She tried to overcome the sympathy that was growing.

"It looks like you'll be facing some pretty serious charges, Dori," she told her somberly. "Obstruction of justice, tampering with evidence, possibly accessory to murder." She stood up to leave, when Dori spoke again.

"Do you know what it's like? To be separated from the one you love?"

Lindsay closed her eyes for a moment, and all she could see was Danny's face.

"I do know," she replied softly. "More than you could ever know."


	14. Danny: Release

**A/N: **Next to last chapter here. Bear with me, one more to go after this! **  
**

* * *

**Chapter 14**  
**Danny: Release**

Danny was trying to remember how to breathe.

Everything had come down to this moment, and soon it would hopefully be over.

In front of him, Joe was wearing out the hotel room carpet; his phone pressed to his ear as he awaited news of the verdict. It was Friday morning, and the jury had come back after only two hours of deliberation. Sassone's future was on the line, and Danny prayed silently for that future to be a bleak one. His own future – with Lindsay – depended on it.

Joe was currently speaking to Agent Hess, who was in the courtroom and relaying events as they happened. While Danny sat on his bed, bouncing his leg with impatience, Joe kept him abreast of what was going on.

"The attorneys just came in," Joe explained. "Sassone was brought in… in shackles," he added.

Danny rubbed his palms together briskly, trying to soothe his nerves. _After the week I've had had, I should be able to give courses in stress management_, he thought wryly. He wondered where Lindsay was. He had watched the news last night, and heard about an arrest in her case. Right now she was probably over her head in paperwork, unaware of what was unfolding. Danny _needed_ a guilty verdict, he _needed_ to get back to her. He watched Joe's face for any sign of emotion that might clue him in to what was going on.

"The jury just assembled," Joe said, still dictating from Agent Hess. "The bailiff announced the judge's entrance."

Beginning to sweat, Danny tried to focus on deep breathing to settle his erratic heartbeat. _In, out_, he thought, counting to ten. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine a peaceful scene. A beach on a deserted island. Him. Lindsay. Cold, icy beer and hot, steaming pizza. _In, out._

Joe's voice again relayed news. "The judge is looking over the verdict, handing it to the court reporter…"

Silence ensued, then Danny heard a thump. He looked up to see Joe staring straight at the ceiling, the phone having slipped to the floor.

"_What!"_ Danny shouted, unable to contain his emotions any longer.

"Guilty on all counts," Joe told him, beaming. "You ready to go home?"

---

Agents Hess and Warren were due any minute to take Danny back to New York. He changed back into the street clothes he had worn Monday, then took a final, brief glance around the room as they left the hotel. True, he had hated every minute of his confinement, but nonetheless, it had provided him with deeper insight. It allowed him to release emotions that were choking him, and it brought him a new friend.

Joe, at Danny's invitation, was riding back with him to the city. As the two men walked outside, Danny relished the warm sun and fresh air. He saw the black SUV parked nearby, with the two agents already in the front seat.

"Your chariot," offered Joe as he opened the door for Danny, then slid in next to him. After they buckled, the engine roared to life and headed out to the freeway.

For the next hour, Danny and Joe relaxed and chatted as they made their way to New York. They talked about the stunning fall weather, the things Danny wanted to do when he got back (visit Louie, take Lindsay out to a fancy dinner), and of course - the trial.

"I wish Louie could have been there," Danny told Joe wistfully as he stared out the window. "I wish he could have been there watching when they read the verdict, to look Sonny right in the face."

"You'll have to tell him about it," Joe suggested. "The next time you visit. He'd understand, I bet."

Danny nodded, so comfortable now opening up to Joe. "I got revenge. Louie would have been proud."

"It wasn't just about revenge," Joe replied. "You did the right thing, and that took courage."

Danny shrugged. "I don't think I'll ever make up for the wrong I've done. For the people I've hurt." He thought of Louie, his parents. And Lindsay – how would things be between then now? Would it go back to normal, or would emotional distance result from the physical distance? He didn't know; all he could think about right now was grabbing her up and holding her for a long, long time. His arms literally ached for her.

As the New York City skyline came into view at last, Danny felt his heart begin to pump faster. It had never looked so beautiful, but he didn't feel truly _home_ until they pulled up in front of the crime lab. It was such a familiar, mundane place, and the sight of it made him feel exhilarated. Liberated. Knowing Lindsay was inside made him tremble with anticipation.

Agent Hess, chomping away on a wad of gum, held the door open as Danny slid out. Wordlessly, he handed him the items he had been stripped of just four days earlier: his badge, his wallet, his cell phone. His life. He stared at them, fascinated, as if he had never seen them before.

Joe chuckled at Danny's reaction. "We now return you to your regularly scheduled life," he joked, then added solemnly, "I guess this is goodbye."

Danny thought of how this man had become like a father to him this week, supporting him and teaching him, even indulging him. "Keep in touch?" he asked hopefully. "Next time, I'll buy the drinks."

Joe smiled sadly, and shook his head. "I live in the shadows, son," he replied. "That's part of my job. That's the sacrifice we make to protect people in the future."

An idea occurred to Danny. He felt sure he would not have survived this separation from Lindsay without Joe's comforting presence. What could he do in exchange? More than anything, he wanted to give Joe something to remember him by. He unclasped his watch, the Rolex he had blown his first year bonus on. He had spent so much time staring at it this week, wishing away the hours and days. He handed it to Joe.

"I won't be needing this anymore," he said. "I want you to take it, as a thank-you for everything."

The older man pulled him into a hug. "Don't mention it," he murmured softly. He stepped back, with his hands still on Danny's shoulders, and looked him in the eye. "You've made mistakes, Danny, and you'll make them again. But you are not your mistakes. You're so much greater than any mistake you could ever make."

Danny nodded gratefully, hurting because he was losing this friend, but celebrating that he was gaining so much more. Life would be different now. He opened his mouth, trying to come up with words to express his varied feelings.

"You're wasting time," Joe teased Danny. He climbed back into the vehicle, and called out one last piece of advice through the open window as they drove off: "Now… go find Lindsay."


	15. Lindsay: Unbroken

**A/N: **Final chapter, here it is. Thanks SO much to all of you who took the time to read. This was a deeply emotional fic for me to write, making it hard to share without feeling exposed. It's a story that will always be close to my heart. And now, I am moving back to my realm of Fluff, perhaps with a sequel to Miles to Go, not sure yet. :) Enjoy the D/L reuinion - Keep on shipping!

* * *

**Chapter 15**  
**Lindsay: Unbroken**

As Lindsay signed her name to yet another form, she wondered how much longer she would have to work at the lab before earning a signature stamp. She had returned from lunch not long ago, and the cramp in her wrist told her she needed another break.

Stella breezed in the room, doing a double-take when she saw Lindsay. "I'm shocked to see you still here!" she exclaimed, grinning widely.

Lindsay gave her a puzzled look. "We have a lot of paper work to finish for the Rothbart case," she replied tiredly. The emotional exhaustion of the week had taken a toll on her physical strength. "Why wouldn't I be here?"

Stella blinked in confusion. "But I thought… Oh. You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?" Lindsay asked, tensing up instinctively.

"Oh, God. Mac didn't tell you yet."

Lindsay jumped out of her seat. "What? Mac didn't tell me _what_? Something about Danny?"

Stella seemed hesitant to divulge any more information, and Lindsay's heart seized. She pushed back her chair suddenly and leapt to her feet. "Please," she begged. "Stella, if you know something…". Her knees threatened to buckle.

"Sassone was found guilty on all charges this morning," Stella explained. "Danny was released from protective custody and should be back in the city any minute."

Lindsay didn't hesitate. She didn't thank Stella, didn't stack up the papers that lay in disarray on her desk, or rinse out her half-empty coffee mug, or even retrieve her jacket. She just ran. At the end of the hallway, she was jabbing the elevator button repeatedly with trembling fingers, waiting for the doors to open, when she heard Mac's voice.

"I guess you heard the good news."

Lindsay swerved to see him standing behind her, arms crossed. "Mac," she said, "can I…? Is it okay-"

"Lindsay," Mac interrupted sternly, "this is your job, and I expect you to make priorities here…" Lindsay hung her head and nodded, waiting for the scolding that was sure to follow. "I had better not see you back here until Monday morning," Mac finished, breaking into a grin. "Tell Danny the same."

Lindsay laughed with relief. "Thank you, Mac," she said, giving him a quick wave. The elevator had arrived, and she stepped on, watching the numbers illuminate with each floor of its descent: _6… 5… 4_. Her throat was dry and she felt dizzy with each lurch downward: _3… 2… 1_. Once arriving at the main floor, she ran through the lobby, dodging people left and right. Their stares of confusion or annoyance were meaningless to her.

Outside, she craned her neck in an attempt to see over the countless heads that filed by. _Where was Danny? _A breeze whipped her hair around, and she shivered from the chill and excitement. Jogging back and forth in front of the building, she continued to scan the passersby for that recognizable head of tussled brown hair, or the blue eyes that twinkled behind glasses. But Danny was nowhere do be seen. The alley behind the lab was completely empty. She crossed the street, looking in the front door of their favorite deli, with no luck.

Frustrated and winded, Lindsay stopped pacing and leaned against the wall of the building in defeat. This was torture – she had waited so long, and it seemed like these last few minutes were endless. He obviously hadn't arrived yet – maybe he was stuck in traffic somewhere. She considered going back inside – Danny would probably call her cell when he arrived. With a sigh, she turned back towards the entrance of the lab.

"Don't tell me you're going to give up that easily," that familiar voice teased.

Tears sprung at her eyes before she even saw him. She swung around, and there he was: standing in front of the bench where they usually shared lunch. He smiled, and she could only stare. She had dreamed about this moment – how she would throw herself into his arms, and they would kiss with wild abandon. Now her legs were frozen, and her mind seemed to doubt the existence of Danny before her. Only her arm moved, when she brought it up to cover her mouth with her hand. Danny stared back at her, and she saw so many emotions in his eyes: fear, joy, sadness, warmth, passion. The distance that now separated them was a mere twenty feet, yet neither could budge.

Suddenly, as if a fog had lifted, they both started walking briskly, covering the space between them in the span of a few seconds. Lindsay released a half-laugh, half-sob, and threw herself as Danny. He wrapped his arms around her, easily lifting her up off the ground, rocking them both. She could feel his stubble brushing against her face, a most welcome irritant. His scent surrounded her, as did the comfort that only he could provide.

For all of the thoughts that had occurred to both of them over the week, they were now too overcome to speak. They simply embraced, pausing only briefly to look at each other, unconvinced they weren't experiencing a mirage.

"Hi," Lindsay finally spoke, laughing and weeping at the same time. "You're real."

"Hi," Danny replied. "You're gorgeous." He wiped the tears off of her cheeks, and then kissed her with more fervor than he ever had – in public or in private. Lindsay was first taken aback by the magnitude of emotion she felt coming from him. It had been days since they had touched, after all. But soon her body responded – Danny always did that to her – and she hungrily and eagerly returned his kiss.

"Get a room," snarled a hurried businessman who pushed by. Instead of being angered, Danny and Lindsay just laughed. No one else mattered.

"Let's get out of here," she told him. "I want to be alone with you." She took his hand, and started leading him away, but he didn't move.

"Wait," he said, then pulled her close to him once again. "Lindsay, on the phone that night, what I started to say…"

"Shh," Lindsay said, pressing her index finger against his lip. "I already know."

The remnants of the early evening sun drifted through Lindsay's bedroom window, sprinkling warmth across her bare back. She lay on Danny's chest, his hands tangled in her hair as they rested together. For awhile, she just listened to the steady beat of his heart. It was her proof, her reassurance, that he was back where he belonged: in her arms, in her bed, in her life.

She thought Danny was asleep, but then he stirred, tilting his head to smile down at her. It felt so good to be snuggled up here with him, like always; watching him, touching him.

"Did you miss this?" she asked lightly.

He grinned evilly. "I missed _this_," he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it. "And this…" He rolled her over onto her back, then his lips traveled to her neck, nibbling and kissing as he went along. "And this," he added, running his hands over her torso, grazing her skin with just enough pressure to make her feel as though she would combust. "I missed _all_ of that."

Lindsay laughed and scooted out from under him. "Easy! I just want to look at you for awhile."

They settled back down onto the pillows, folded into each other. "I can't believe you're really here," she whispered.

"I can't believe you're _still_ here," he replied somberly.

Lindsay shook her head, confused. "Where else would I be, Danny?"

He sighed, finally voicing those fears that had weighed on him all week. "I was afraid that being apart would be hard on us."

"Well… it _was_. It wasn't just being apart that was hard," she admitted. "It was the not knowing. But it didn't take away my feelings for you. Nothing could."

Danny looked at her sheepishly. "I thought you'd be ashamed of me," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Too ashamed to be with me anymore."

Lindsay shook her head, frustrated that he didn't believe in her devotion. "I'm so _proud_, Danny. Proud _of_ you, proud to _know_ you, proud to _be _with you. Do you remember that dream I had a few nights ago? I was so afraid of losing you and you promised me that couldn't happen. Well, that goes both ways." His only response was silence, though his arm drew tighter around her.

"We're going to be okay," she continued. "If we could handle this, we can handle anything." He smiled, and they settled into a peaceful silence once again.

"I think we should stay in bed all weekend," Lindsay announced after a moment, trying to lighten the mood. "Mac said not to bother coming in til Monday."

Danny grinned. "I can't think of a better way to spend the next two days." The light outside was fading, and he grappled for his watch. His bare wrist reminded him of the gift he had given Joe, and he smiled fondly. "What time is it?" he asked.

"It's almost dinner time," Lindsay murmured, nestling deeper against him, reveling in bliss.

"I guess it's my turn to make dinner, huh?" he grunted.

She rolled her eyes – Danny was not much of a cook. "What's your specialty? Dialing the numbers for takeout?"

"Sounds good to me." He kissed her forehead as he slipped out of bed. "I'll be right back."

"Don't go!" Lindsay called, but she was smiling as she watched him disappear into the hallway.

It didn't matter if he was one room away, or a thousand miles away. The threads that connected them could not be severed.

_FIN. _


End file.
